Commissioner Hon. Raymond Finkelstein AO QC at Victoria's royal commission into Crown Casino, in Melbourne (Image: James Ross/AAP)

A few years ago it would have been unthinkable that anyone in Victoria would describe Crown as unfit to hold a casino licence in Melbourne. What a difference a few royal commissions makes.

After the counsel assisting the Melbourne royal commission into Crown, Adrian Finanzio SC, made the extraordinary declaration yesterday that the casino giant should lose its Melbourne licence, both the Victorian Premier Dan Andrews and Opposition Leader Michael O’Brien were suddenly united in their condemnation of a gambling giant that had run roughshod over both sides of politics for decades.

“It is clear that what has gone on there should not have gone on,” Andrews, who had resisted calls for a royal commission, said.

O’Brien agreed. “If we’re going to clean up Melbourne’s casino, we need to clean out Crown.”

Finanzio’s king-hit to Crown came in the form of a damning closing submission, describing misconduct that had been “so flagrant and so well-publicised” that “no amount of restructuring can restore confidence in it as a fit and proper person to hold a licence”. He said the commission had heard evidence that exposed the “depth and breadth” of misconduct of a company that “consistently put profit before all other considerations”.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The Melbourne royal commission was expected to be the tamer of the inquiries after the New South Wales Bergin commission blew the lid off the casino giant’s organised crime links and confirmed it had facilitated money laundering. But commissioner Ray Finkelstein managed to find even more dark secrets, exposing the company’s blatant exploitation of problem gamblers and its mafia-like bullying of state regulators. 

Among the evidence was that Crown invited back a high-roller to its infamous Mahogany Room even after they had racked up $100,000 in debt. The commission also found Crown bullied the regulator into silence over its concerns about money laundering controls. And then there was the tax issue: almost half a billion dollars in unpaid taxes, with just $50 million agreed to be repaid so far. All of this, Finanzio said, pointed to breaches that were not “isolated or trifling indiscretions”, but “serious misconduct, illegal misconduct” that occurred time and time again. 

So, where does this leave Crown? The company is a mere husk of what it was just a few short years ago when its billionaire chairman James Packer was plotting not only the Sydney Barangaroo development but also an ambitious new skyscraper in Melbourne. It seemed the company that Packer’s father had presided over was once again unstoppable.

Now it is facing financial ruin, with one of the biggest parts of its business about to evaporate. There is also no certainty over its Perth casino, which is subject to its own royal commission. Barangaroo is also hanging in the balance, meaning Crown has not only lost its mission and purpose but, critically, its value.

Untangling Crown from Victoria will be a messy business. The company is the state’s biggest single-site employer, with more than 15,000 people employed across its hotels and restaurants. And while Crown’s days may be over, there is no one from either major party calling for the Melbourne casino to be shut down. Which means a new operator could swoop in and be exposed to the same soft governance and toothless regulation. So, what exactly will change? 

Commissioner Ray Finkelstein is due to hand down a final decision in October.